Goodnight, My Angel
by pineappletop92
Summary: Noah Puckerman never asked to be a father.  He also never asked to have her be given up for adoption.  The only thing he ever asked, and got, was that she be named Beth.  These are the words he never got to say.  Songfic to "Lullaby" by Billy Joel.


**A/N: In September I went off to college, five hours away from home, for the first time. Of course, I hadn't thought I would be homesick, and of course, I was. It wasn't that bad, but the first few weeks, especially at night, it was tough. My mom sent me the link to the YouTube video of Billy Joel's "Lullaby" (which I recommend you watch/listen to) but I didn't want to watch it until I was alone in my dorm room, because I knew I would cry. It wasn't until about two weeks after she sent it to me that I finally got a chance to watch it by myself, and yes, I did cry. There's just something about being away from home and your parents that makes you realize how much you love them – and how lucky you are to have them always.**

**College was also when I first got into Glee. Yes, I admit, I'm a late-comer. Unfortunately, I hated the pilot – so that put me off to watching the rest of season one. But I wanted to have some reason to hang out with people at least once a week, so I figured, "Eh, I'll just watch the rest of the season just to understand what's going on." Little did I know I would get hooked. And one of the things that I began to think of, like most people, were songs that I wanted to hear Glee cover. And then, when Puck sang "Only the Good Die Young" in "Grilled Cheesus" I immediately thought of "Lullaby" and realized how perfect it would be for Puck to sing to/about Beth.**

**So even if this never actually happens on the show, at least it's happening here. Enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own "Glee" or "Lullaby" by Billy Joel.**

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He didn't know why he was knocking.

He didn't know why he was knocking on _this_ particular door. Or why he didn't use the damn doorbell. But for some reason, he needed to move his hand against the solid wood of the white-painted door. _To make sure it's real, _he thought. He wasn't sure where that thought came from, so he shook his head to clear it. He had come here with one thing in mind and now that he was here, there was no turning back.

As he stood on the porch, guitar strap cutting across his thick jacket while the instrument pressed against his back, he glanced around as he waited patiently for the door to open – wondering briefly if it even would – and noticed the slight flicker of light out of the corner of his eyes. He looked at the window to the left of the door and saw a gold menorah with two candles lit. He smiled at the sight, happiness filling him for a brief moment.

That happiness washed away, turning to nervousness as the door opened inward to reveal an older, dark-haired woman. Behind her he could see a small entry-way (_foy-ay_, he think his mother called it once) with a black tiled floor and soft blue walls. A small chandelier hung from the ceiling, reflecting back multi-faceted schemes of color that had him struggling to tear his eyes away much like that one time he had smoked a little too much and the glass vase in his mother's living room-

"Noah?" the woman asked, pulling said teenager out of his reverie and back into reality. He smiled hesitantly at Shelby Corcoran, former director of Vocal Adrenaline, biological mother of the only other Jew in New Directions, Rachel Berry, and adoptive mother of his own…_daughter_.

"Hi, Ms. Corcoran-"

"Shelby, please."

"Shelby." He smiled again.

Before he could go on, Shelby moved aside. "Would you like to come inside?"

Puck nodded and stepped inside the house. Shelby closed the door behind them and led Puck past a set of blue-carpeted stairs to a small hallway which led, ultimately, to the kitchen. She gestured for him to sit at the small, white table while she went over to a cabinet and pulled out a glass.

"Would you like anything to drink?"

"Um, water's fine." Carefully he pulled the guitar off and laid it gently on the floor beside the table, leaning it against the wall. He glanced briefly at the high-chair on the other side of the table before returning his gaze to Shelby as she slid into the seat across from him. He looked in front of him and realized there was a glass of water sitting on the table. He reached for it carefully and took a sip.

"So, what brings you here, Noah?"

"I was sort of, well, I mean…I kinda…I-"

"You want to see Beth?"

Puck ducked his head. He hadn't wanted to rush into things, but his intentions for coming here were probably obvious.

"I know Quinn wanted to give you full custody of her, and not want to intrude in her growing up in anyway possible, but, well, it's the first night of Hanukkah, as you know, and I was with my family and my mom kept going on about being Jewish and what it means and how important it is to remember our origins and culture and other Jewish-y stuff. And then she told me and my sister how much she loved us and to always remember that and I realized that, well, even if I can't be in her life, I want my…my…_Beth_, to know that I will always think of her, because well...I…she…."

"It's okay, Noah," Shelby said as she leaned over and placed a hand over his own, stilling its sudden shakiness. "I understand. Would you like to see her? She's upstairs."

He nodded. Shelby rose from the table and Puck followed her. He bent to pick up the guitar and glanced at Shelby briefly.

"I was sort of hoping to…well…there's this song…."

"Of course."

He returned her smile gratefully and followed her back to the front of the house and up those blue-carpeted stairs. At the top, Shelby turned right and entered a door on the left side of the hallway. Inside the room everything was yellow, except for the walls – which were white with a trim of music notes along the top. The curtains were yellow, the furniture was yellow, the carpet was yellow – even the white wooden rocker in the corner had a yellow cushion. The only thing that wasn't yellow was the crib – which was a dark wood, like oak or something like that. He was never sure about those things.

"The crib was mine when I was a baby. My mother let me use it. I wasn't sure it would be safe, but I had it checked by my neighbor – he's a carpenter – and he said it was in perfect condition," Shelby was saying as she went over to it and leaned her hands on the top. She smiled downwards before looking back at Puck. "She's asleep."

"I could come back-" he began.

"No, no, it's alright if she wakes up. Here, come look."

Hesitantly, he made his way over to the crib and, with a glance at Shelby, looked down at his daughter.

What he saw brought a strange feeling to his chest. It was the same feeling he had gotten when he had seen her in hospital – when he had held her for the briefest of moments before the nurse had taken her away from him – a strange, warm tightness in his chest that he couldn't place. He had wanted to say it was love, but he felt that it was more than that. Because while he loved his mother and sister he didn't get this feeling when he hugged them. No this feeling was different, because the little girl – the one that was currently asleep, clutching a yellow blanket, her mouth stuffed with her middle and ring fingers of her right hand, dark brown hair lightly curling against on her head – she was _his_ little girl. She was a part of him – and he a part of her – like no other living person was. Until then, Noah Puckerman realized, he had never known what being a father meant. But he knew that it was this feeling in his chest that most closely defined what it meant to be a father.

Finally, he spoke. "Could you…I mean, could I…I'd like to do this alone, if you don't mind."

Shelby nodded and with a small squeeze to his shoulder, left the room.

Puck reached his hand down and lightly touched the hair that adorned Beth's head. He began to gently stroke it, and as he did so, he spoke.

"Hey, Beth. It's…it's Daddy." He had to pause as his breath hitched. Biting his lip he continued. "I know that I'm never going to be able to be there for you, to watch you grow up, or catch you when you fall, or teach you how to hit – or to hit any of your boyfriends for that matter." He paused as he let out a soft chuckle. "But I want you to know that I'll always think of you – that I'm always with you, whether you can see me or not. And I know I'm not exactly the best role model to have, or even the best person to be a father, what with my rep, but when I look at you – I just get this feeling, you know? Like you're the most important thing in the world and that nothing could ever change that. Because you're _my_ daughter. And…well, I love you."

He moved his hand so that his thumb lay against her pink cheek and began to rub it gently, feeling the soft skin warm beneath his own. He smiled before continuing. "Anyway, the reason I came here tonight was to show you how much I care about you, even if I had to give you away. But that was Quinn's choice, not mine. Not that I'm blaming her, you see. I mean, it was her life, too, and since I was the one to knock her up I think it was her right to decide how you grew up. And I think adoption was the best choice. Not that she doesn't love you – because she does. But Shelby, the one who adopted you, she's a good woman. And she'll make a better mother and parent than Quinn or I ever could. She'll raise you right. She'll be able to do so much more for you than we ever could.

"So, to show you that even though I won't be physically in your life I will always be with you in some way, I want to sing a song for you. I know you are too young to remember, but I'm hoping that the feeling will stay with you – that is, if a feeling like this can stay with you. I'm sure it can though, in some weird way. Just like the way I always get that feeling when I think of you – it's just a feeling that I can't exactly name, but I know I get it cause of you, angel."

The word slipped out before he could pull it back. _Angel._ He hadn't meant to give her a pet name, but it happened. His thumb stopped stroking for a moment as he looked at her, _his angel_, and realized that he didn't just want to sing the song and leave, but stay in her life forever. To love her and protect her just like any other father would. Well, any other father who wasn't his own. Maybe that was it – maybe he just wanted to prove to the world that even though he was a badass, he was a whole lot better than some people, and was more than willing to take responsibility, and be a father who actually cared and was there when he was needed.

A small whimper distracted him enough to quickly wipe the moisture that was forming in his eyes and remind himself that he couldn't – shouldn't – be this child's father. Not with his reputation, anyway. He looked at Beth and saw a small frown gracing her features. He frowned himself, wondering what had caused her unease, and began stroking her cheek again. Slowly, the frown left her small face and was replaced with a look of peace. He couldn't help but smile.

"The song I chose is by Billy Joel. He's Jewish, you know. Always be proud to be Jewish. I mean, you're mother was Christian or Catholic or something, and Judaism is passed on through the mother, but you have a part of me in you, and Shelby is probably going to raise you Jewish if the menorah was any indication, so I figure you should hear a song from one of the many talented Jewish singing legends. Sure, Billy Joel claims to be only culturally Jewish, but I think that's okay, and besides, this song seems to say a lot about what I've been feeling. I've been listening to it a lot lately, actually since you were born, really, and I can't seem to get it out of my head. It was originally written as a piano piece, but I managed to play the tune on my guitar. But it's not the tune I want you to hear, even though it's pure genius, but the lyrics. Cause they say everything I want you to know."

His eyes never leaving the crib, Puck took hold of the rocker and pulled it over to beside the crib. He had a moment of confusion in figuring out how to lower the side of the crib, but once he had it down, and could see his daughter through from his perch on the rocker, he picked up the guitar, laid it across his lap, and began to strum.

_"Good night my angel time to close you eyes_

_And save these questions for another day_

_I think I know what you've been asking me_

_I think you know what I've been trying to say_

_I promised I would never leave you_

_And you should always know_

_Where ever you may go_

_No matter where you are_

_I never will be far away_

_Good night my angel now it's time to sleep_

_And still so many things I want to say_

_Remember all the songs you sang for me_

_When we went sailing on an emerald bay_

_And like a boat out on the ocean_

_I'm rocking you to sleep_

_The water's dark and deep_

_Inside this ancient heart_

_You'll always be a part of me_

_Goodnight my angel now it's time to dream_

_And dream how wonderful your life will be_

_Someday your child may cry and if you sing this lullaby_

_Then in your heart there will always be a part of me_

_Someday we'll all be gone_

_But lullabies go on and on_

_They never die that's how you and I will be"_

Letting the last note hum through the air as it faded away, Puck stood up, setting the guitar back down on the ground. Then, leaning into to the crib, he placed his lips against Beth's cheek.

"Goodnight, angel. Sleep tight."

With that, he returned the crib to its original state, picked up his guitar, left the room, said goodbye to Shelby, left the house, and drove away.

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After Noah Puckerman had left, Shelby went into the nursery and walked over to the small yellow night table next to the crib. On it was a small lamp, a baby monitor, a clean pacifier, and a small tape recorder. It seemed an odd object to have in a nursery, but Shelby had been singing a different song to her daughter each night, in hopes that she would find one that could be the perfect lullaby for the girl. So far, though, none of the songs she had sung seemed right.

Shelby smiled as she hit the button to stop recording. She knew Noah probably hadn't noticed the small red light glowing as it recorded the words he had said to his infant daughter. She hit rewind and waited as the machine returned the tape to the beginning. At this moment, Beth began to whimper in her sleep. Shelby frowned and waited, hoping it was just a small discomfort, but unfortunately, the whimper turned into a whine, which of course led to crying.

"Oh, sweetie," she sighed as she leaned over the edge of the crib to pick up the squirming child. Placing her against her shoulder, she began to bounce her around and sing softly in her ear. Unfortunately, this did not seem to help as it usually did. Instead, the wailing seemed to increase. Shelby turned from the crib and glanced at the machine. It hadn't finished rewinding the cassette all the way. Part of her – the one holding her child against her chest, rubbing circles on her back, and making shushing noises through rounded lips – wanted to hear what the boy had to say to _her_ daughter. Another part of her, however, realized that whatever the boy had to say to Beth was not something for Shelby's ears. They were words meant for Beth, and Beth alone.

And so she reached out a hand and hit play.

"-originally written as a piano piece, but I managed to play the tune on my guitar." Noah's voice began speaking almost immediately, caught in the middle of the sentence. Shelby was tempted to hit fast-forward, but somehow she knew that this was just the end of the speech, and that she wasn't really listening to the important part.

And she was right. About half a minute later, the song began. Almost immediately, Beth began to quiet in her arms. As the guitar strings strummed the notes and the lyrics washed over the tiny ears, Beth leaned back slightly in her mother's embrace, and Shelby could see the girl's blue eyes, wide with wonder and something else. Something Shelby couldn't place.

Slowly, Shelby settled into the rocking chair, and switching Beth's position so that she was nestled in her lap, she began rocking back and forth to the rhythm of the lullaby that would lull Beth to sleep from that night onward.

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**A/N: I also just wanted to point out that I too am a cultural Jew like Billy Joel. He also apparently claims to be atheist (at least, according to Wikipedia). I never knew I had so much in common with him. :D**


End file.
